


Just Like Me

by orphan_account



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Clone Sex, Does this count as masturbation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain finds a clone of himself and shit goes down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like Me

Everybody was shifty as fuck after it happened. Maintenance had found some unidentifiable substance in the engine room and thrown a fit, throwing up the alarm just because some fighter had given it to his navi good and then forgotten to clean up the mess.  _Unidentifiable substance_ , Cain thought with a snort.  _Yeah, right._

Still, there had been a big fucking to-do about collecting the sample and examining it. The day it happened, Cain had been running late for training and taken a corner quick, running right into two workers on their way to the lab. The container they were carrying had opened, clear substance spilling against Cain's skin before he jerked back. The two lab techs just stared at him dripping onto the floor, totally horrified.

"Watch it," Cain snapped, made to run off again, but then they had grabbed him and were taking him to the lab too, both of them talking about how unsafe it was, how they didn't know what the shit was, how dangerous it could be.

Cain tried to fight, couldn't quite manage it, and in the end, being prodded at and tested in the lab was better than training anyway. At the end of it, they still didn't know what the shit was, or if they did, they didn't tell Cain. Either way, at the end of the day he was released and sent back to his room, and he felt fine, so who really gave a fuck?

He had almost reached his room when the door suddenly slid back. Abel came out and turned toward him, eyes fixed on the floor. He was blushing and adjusting the collar of his jacket, little smile on his face. Cain glared, looked him up and down hard because that expression was all too familiar. He quickened his pace, eyes flicking between the closing door of their room and Abel's mussed hair and flushed face.

Then Abel glanced up and stopped dead in his tracks. His face drained of all color in about half a second, eyes big and mouth dropping open when he caught sight of Cain.

"Surprised to see me?" Cain said as he got to Abel, grabbing his arm and hauling him back to their room. "You're not very fucking  _subtle—_ you been fucking someone in my room?"

"I…" Abel said, not even trying to fight Cain off, staring up at him, didn't look scared at all, face almost blank. "I— _Cain_?"

Cain stopped walking, standing outside the door to their room and just staring at it, wanting to open it, not wanting to see what— _who_ —would be on the other side.

"This—how— _Cain_?" Abel said, and when Cain glanced at him, he was still pale, dark eyes looking uncomprehendingly at Cain's face.

"Who's in there?" Cain asked, used his grip on Abel's hand to haul him forward.  _"Who's in there?"_

Abel opened his mouth, didn't get a chance to say anything when Cain felt a gust of air as the door slid open. Abel's eyes focused on a spot over Cain's shoulder, getting impossibly wider. Cain turned and saw…himself.

 _No, fuck_ , not himself—that was impossible, but the person glaring at him looked as much like Cain as a twin. At first he thought it was just a trick—smoke and mirrors, but then he moved through the door, circling around someone who looked just fucking like him, and there was no smoke…no mirrors. Cain blinked, stepping forward, hands shaking, so fucking freaked that he didn't even think about it when he swung a fist out.

"Cain!" Abel said behind him, but the blow never connected, the other one ducking out of the way, jerking back, one hand flying out to grab at Cain's wrist.

It was the same move Cain would have made, though, so he pulled back at the last minute, fought against the momentum of his arm to move out of reach. The guy gave him a sharp look, grinned, and Cain didn't know what the fuck to think about any of this.

"What—" Abel said, following Cain in, the door  _fiss_ ing shut again. "Cain, what's—"

"I don't know, Abel," Cain snapped, snarling and startling back when the other one, the other  _Cain_ , looked at Abel and said the same thing.

"Shut up," Cain said. "Shut up—who the fuck— _what_  the fuck— _why the fuck do you look like me?_ "

"He was talking to me," the doppelganger said, ignored the most important question like a fucking asshole and gave Cain a hard look; sharp eyes, lip curling. Cain jerked back because fuck it was weird to see that, to examine his own face that way, so much different than a mirror, so much more intense and real.

"What are you?" Cain asked again, thinking about throwing another punch, deciding against it. He rubbed at an itch on his arm, watched the other ne do the same thing, same arm.

"Cain," Abel said, and both of them looked at him, Cain and the other one, as he stepped forward.

Abel hesitated, glancing between the two of them, unsure, and the look on the other one's face when Abel turned away from him, came toward Cain, made Cain squirm, didn't know how to deal with watching himself watch Abel.

"What happened here?" Abel asked, pulling Cain's hand away from his arm to examine the red mark underneath. Cain didn't answer, never got a chance to when Abel glanced back, gripped the arm of the other one and pulled him forward. "You both do."

"Don't," Cain said, pulling on Abel's wrist. "Don't—don't touch it—"

"Fuck off," the twin said. His lip curled into a cold smirk, eyes narrowing. "We did plenty of touching before—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Cain yanked at Abel again, curling an arm around his back, his eyes never leaving the other one.  _"What the fuck are you?"_

He shrugged, crossed his arms over his chest. He was wearing Cain's clothes; his pants and his shirt, and he looked just as good as them as Cain did—just the same.

"I'm Cain," he said, didn't add  _dumbfuck_ , but Cain heard it anyway.

"No, you  _aren't_ ," Cain snapped, arm tightening around Abel's back, causing him to make an annoyed sound and try to wriggle out of Cain's grasp.

"Hey, fucking watch it." And then Abel was tugged away, stumbling as the other pulled him away from Cain. Only for a second though, and then Abel backed toward the door, out of reach of both of them, flushed and glancing between them.

"Which—which one of you…" He licked his lips, throat rolling. "What's going on?" He didn't direct the question at either of them, eyes flicking around the room, not settling.

Cain didn't know what the fuck  _he_ was worked up about; no one had tried to steal  _his_  body, but then Cain watched Abel fold his arms in front of himself, shifting on his feet.

It hit Cain like a well-placed punch to the stomach. "You're joking," he drawled, felt his temper rise to boiling point when the little fucker next to him said the same thing.

Abel blinked, glanced between them again and edged forward, lip caught between his teeth. He shifted just a little from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. Then the other one said, "Come here." He held out a hand, and Abel only stared at it for a fraction of a second before taking it.

"Abel—fuck—" Cain snapped, jumped forward when the doppelganger used its grip on Abel's hand to yank him closer.

Cain could practically see it unfurling before his eyes; the other one pulling Abel in, turning him around, pulling Abel against him, his back to the other one's front. Abel wouldn't even see it coming, wouldn't be able to do more than say, "Cain…?" Hand beneath Abel's chin, other on the back of his neck, quick yank in either direction and that would be it. Game over. He saw it all in what it could have been, what it  _should_ have been; crazy fucking nightmare-Cain doing the worst thing imaginable.

But it didn't happen.

The other one just pulled Abel forward, chest to chest, gripped the back of Abel's head—almost a threat, almost what Cain was scared of—but it was only to bring him closer, to tilt his head back so they could kiss. And Abel…fucking  _melted_ , whole body going lax and pliant, looked like he was sinking into the other one, hands gripping at the counterpart's shoulders, whole line of his body lengthening and bending.

Cain liked it. Didn't want to like it, tried not to, but it was like watching porn, porn like he hadn't been able to get since before Basic; the good stuff, the stuff worth watching. Except in this porn Abel was there, and so was he, and Cain could watch himself kiss Abel, touch him, and it was exciting and terrifying all at the same time.

He came back to himself, realized that this wasn't porn, that Abel was moaning into the mouth of someone—some _thing_ that Cain didn't trust, not at all. He stepped forward, swallowing, distracted by watching that face— _his face_ —up against Abel's,  _his lips_  kissing and sucking down Abel's neck,  _his hands_ pressing across Abel's stomach, skating around to his back, bending his spine farther.

Cain didn't remember walking forward, was suddenly only aware of how close he was to the two of them; Abel's skinny waist between his hands and the pale hair at his temple brushing against Cain's lips. Abel made a soft little noise and tilted his head back, head falling against Cain's shoulder, pressing his ass back against Cain's crotch when Cain's hand shifted down to grip his hips.

Abel sighed, shifting his weight when Cain lowered his mouth to the slope of Abel's neck, wasn't even sure what exactly he was doing, especially when he glanced up and saw the other one still pressed to Abel's front, mouth on the other side of Abel's neck. Cain was almost content to let him stay there, too distracted with Abel still shifting and pushing back against him, blushing and moaning, but then Cain's hands slid back up, spanning across the warm tautness of Abel's sides, and then suddenly his palms encountered another set of hands, rough and large.

He pulled back, about to yank his hands away too, but the other one already grabbed his wrist, other hand reaching toward Cain's face, and he was so shocked, so unsure how to react, that when the doppelganger gripped his hair  _hard_ , and jerked him forward, Cain sneered, but couldn't pull away.

It wasn't much of a kiss. Neither of them wanted to give in, to stop pushing at the other, to be on the receiving end, so it was harsh and biting and jagged. It was also fucking  _good_ , made better only by Abel still pressed between them, his hands fluttering across Cain's body and then away again, breath hot against Cain's cheek, body squirming between the two of them.

Then suddenly Abel wasn't there anymore, and Cain wanted to turn to see where he'd gone, to break away, but the other had two hands sunk deep into Cain's hair, thigh shoved between Cain's legs and pressing rough against him, and Cain couldn't get away. He let it go on, lips bruised, metallic taste of blood in his mouth, hands clenched tight in the other's shirt— _his_ shirt—not sure if he wanted to push him away or drag him closer.

A noise behind him made up his mind. Cain shoved the other one back, gasped and cursed when he felt the other's hands in his hair come away forcefully, pulling some hair out with them. Cain turned, kept the other one in sight even when he turned to look at Abel. Abel, who was pressed against the near wall, body languid, face and neck flushed, lips parted. He didn't look surprised as much as…entranced.

When he saw Cain watching him, saw that the two had broken apart, he blinked slowly. "I…I'm going to be late to the lab," he said, making no attempt to leave. "Should I…will you…?"

"I'll take care of it," Cain said, ignored the "tch" from the person behind him.

Abel nodded, still wide-eyed when he glanced between them. He straightened away from the wall, licking his lips. He turned and walked slowly toward the door. He paused when he reached it, back to Cain. One hand disappeared in front of himself for a brief moment,  _adjusting himself_ , Cain thought with a snort. Then the door hissed open and Abel slid through, casting one last glance back at them before he disappeared.

Cain glanced back just in time to see the other one lunge toward him again, was finally quick enough to shove him away before he got too close. The other laughed as he caught himself on the bed, smirking and unafraid.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Can't handle it now that your boyfriend is gone?"

"What are you?" Cain asked, didn't expect an answer anymore so he wasn't disappointed when the other only smirked.

Then he was gripping his shirt— _Cain's fucking shirt_ —and yanking it over his head, flicking it to a corner of the room and then sinking onto the bottom bunk, lounging back on his hands, head tilted to one side. "What do you care?"

"I  _care_ when some fucking prick shows up in my room with  _my face_  fucking  _my_ navigator."

The other one looked at him for a long moment, then he laughed. Cain was pretty certain he had never been so fucking pissed in his whole life, looking at this condescending little  _fuck_  just watching him like he didn't give a shit about anything Cain said. He had lunged forward before he even knew what he was doing, nothing to grab onto except the waistband of the other's pants, hauling him straight off the bed with the sound of ripping fabric.

He was still laughing, the little fucking  _shit_ , only broke off when Cain shoved him back again, harder than before, making him fall against the metal wall, dull  _clang_  resounding in the room when the back of his head connected. He looked dazed for a moment, just a moment for Cain to feel victorious, then he was pushing back, fighting, a fist flying toward Cain's face that Cain blocked easily. He jabbed a hand forward, trying to sink it into the other's gut, but he twisted to the side, out of reach, little smirk back just like that.

Cain was smiling too, though, couldn't help it because he was going to beat the ever-loving shit of this kid and teach him a goddamn lesson. Except it wasn't that easy. The little fucker was too fast, seemed to be able to read Cain's mind and jump out of the way almost every time. By the time Cain had almost sweated through his shirt and the vents had turned on again, all he had to show for his effort was a dark bruise beginning to show on the doppelganger's cheekbone, and a slight limp to his step. Cain's lip was bleeding, his ribs aching from a hard kick that he hadn't seen coming at all, but he was still circling the other, ready for another opening, another way in.

"What are you?" Cain asked again, the millionth time, nothing else to say.

"Cain," he said. "I'm Cain—I can prove it."

"Fuck you!" Cain snapped, threw a fist around hard, was surprised and gratified when the blow connected, sinking right into the doppelganger's smart fucking mouth.

The other one grunted, head snapping to the side. He stayed like that for a minute, eyes clenched shut, Cain watching him and breathing fast. Then he turned back to Cain, laughing and wiping at his bloody mouth. "Yeah, that's real good. You've been wanting to do that for a long time now, haven't you?"

And Cain knew he didn't just mean tonight, today, knew that the truth went deeper than that, and that little fucker said that he  _was_  Cain, that he could prove it, and Cain felt his stomach clench in something like fear because maybe he just had.

"Fuck—" Cain started to say, didn't even get a chance to finish before the other one bowled him over, pushing him to the ground and pressing down on top of him, the whole length of one thigh dragging hard across the front of Cain's pants.

He gasped, couldn't help it, already half-hard from the fight and the anger. Cain still tried to shove him away though, wasn't just going to lay there and take it, not even when they were kissing again, pushing and shoving against each other, pulling out of clothes and gripping at skin.

At some point, the shoving took on a more frantic, rhythmic edge, both of them moving together, both shirtless but only half out of their pants, only the important parts freed. Cain couldn't even think about what was going on, what was happening, too caught up in the heat and sweat and hard, rough hands and biting, sucking mouth over is. It was so different than Abel—not better, but  _different_ ; harsher, darker, less care about pain or satisfaction, all of it just one writhing, rolling ball of need—the need to  _win_ , to get the upper hand.

So Cain pushed back, wasn't going to let himself lose, not in this, not to— _him._  He had a feeling that was what the other one wanted, in the way he licked into Cain's mouth, pressing down on him, cocks just barely freed from the tangle of fabric and rubbing together.

The other one broke away, panting and smirking, blue strands of hair falling into his eyes as he said, "Mmm,  _yeah_ ," glancing down to where they were rutting together.

"Shut the fuck up," Cain snapped, pissed off and horny as he followed the other's gaze, hips jerking up hard, would have thrown the other one off if he didn't have his calves wrapped so tightly around Cain's thighs; immovable.

"Shh," he said, snickering and slinking a hand between them, grabbing Cain's cock. "It's OK, baby."

"Don't—fucking call me that," Cain gasped, gripping the hand around his cock and just kind of leaving it there, not sure if he wanted to egg him on or push him away.

Then they were kissing again, fighting back and forth, Cain's lips buzzing and bruised and bloody, then there was the faint brush of nails over the head of his cock, almost pain, just the hint of something dark and disturbing, and Cain was coming, spurting over the hands around him and onto his own stomach.

It only felt good for a second, just barely, but the sharp jutting reminder that he had  _lost_ , that he had come out on bottom, put a damper on his orgasm. The doppelganger knew it, too, giving Cain a self-satisfied smirk until Cain wrapped one hand around his cock and forced the other down the back of his pants, seeking out the little patch of puckered skin and pushing the tip of one finger in, dry.

 _"Fuck, you fucking asshole—_ " the other said, broke off with a groan when Cain twisted the hand on his cock and pulled up hard.

It was Cain's turn to snicker, laughing too hard when he wiggled that finger in tight, clenching heat and felt a long shudder run up the other's spine, muscles clenching down hard around Cain as he came in Cain's hand, gasping. He was still twitching when Cain pulled away, standing up and putting his clothes back in order, watching him slump to a heap on the ground and pant.

Cain looked at the long line of his spine, the smooth skin and tight ass. He blinked and looked away, turned toward the bathroom and closed himself inside, washing his hands and rinsing his mouth under the tap. He wasn't in there for long, couldn't possibly have been, but when he entered the main room, the other one was gone, all evidence of him gone as well.

Cain swore and rushed into the hallway, looking left and right and choosing a direction at random. He ran along the hallway, brushing past a few lingering navigators who watched him go curiously, but that was all, there was no one else. He turned and headed in the other direction, flying past his doorway and down the opposite end of the corridor, but it was empty.

He slowed to a stop when he reached another fork, didn't know which way to go, if he had gone in the right direction at all. Cain stepped back, frowning, was about to turn and go back to his room when someone rounded the corner.

"Cain!" Abel said. "Are you—where's—"

"Thought you were in the lab," Cain said, turning back toward their room. Abel fell into step beside him, still flushed or newly flushed, Cain couldn't tell.

"I was," he said, "but I told Keeler I wasn't feeling well—he thinks I'm in medical. I just—"

"Wanted to get fucked by two fighters?" Cain asked, too loud, made a passing fighter glance up interestedly until Cain shot him a hard look and he kept walking.

" _No_ ," Abel said, glaring and blushing darker. "I wanted to make sure you were all right. Where—where is…it?"

"Don't know," Cain said, opening their door and going inside, listening to it hiss shut behind Abel. "Just got up and fucking left."

"We should find it," Abel said, keeping by the door when Cain sank onto the edge of the bed. "Or, at least tell someone. I mean, we should…right?"

Cain rubbed a hand over his face. "Fuck, not now," he said. "Later, maybe. I don't know, Abel."

Abel stepped forward, coming to stand in front of Cain, examining his face. "You've got one like me," he said, brushing a finger over the cut on Cain's lip, his eyebrows drawn in.

Cain didn't even know what face he made, could feel anger and something deeper, more painful burning up his throat;  _shame_.

Abel must have seen it, gotten to know Cain so fucking well when Cain hadn't been paying attention, too busy pretending Abel would never understand. Abel said, "Sorry," quietly, made it up by leaning down and kissing Cain's bruised and swollen lips. So slow, so sweet and familiar, and Cain reveled in the feeling, in Abel's fingertips feathering across his neck and shoulders. When he pulled away, Cain almost dragged him back again, wanted to sink into his softness and warmth.

"What happened?" Abel asked, finger still rubbing back and forth across Cain's bottom lip, the cut. "Are you OK?"

Cain just looked at him, then he snorted, brushed Abel's hand away. "Course I am," he said. "Course."

He made to stand up, but suddenly Abel was straddling him, knees bracketing Cain's thighs on the mattress, ass lowering to Cain's knees, hands gripping his shoulders.

"So what was it?" Abel asked. "How did it—"

"Don't know," Cain said, "don't fucking care." His tone was too harsh, couldn't bring himself to do more than grip Abel's hips in some approximation of an apology. "Me," he added, didn't mean to.

Abel didn't say anything for a long minute. He tipped his head against Cain's shoulder, breath hot down Cain's chest. "I like this you better anyway," he said after a minute.

Cain snorted, rolled his eyes, wrapped an arm around Abel's waist and brought him in a little closer, brushed his lips across the sensitive patch of skin below Abel's ear, maybe in some approximation of gratitude.

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha what even is this


End file.
